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BALLAD FOR ASHES

Nobody lives!

cried the thin man

high on the sunny stone steps

of my house

dreaming

he lied

I saw him come

flying

down to the ground

with a thud.

I touched his bruised face

with my fingers

in the low sun.

A man crept up

to a golden cup

to beg for a drink

the water was cold

but the edges of gold

slit his lips like a sieve.